Pretending
by intermittentdarkness
Summary: Harry’s parents are alive, so this story is completely AU. He’s grown up with them. This story is set in his 7th year, so basically all of his previously life is left unknown. He goes to Hogwarts, lives with his parents, and is still the BoyWhoLived. He l
1. Chapter 1

hello everyone. a few of you might recognize me from my star was fic, which I haven't finished. no, I probably wont. Honestly, I doubt I'll finish this one, seeing as I really have no idea where it's going. I just had an idea, and since it's summer and I'm completely bored, I might as well write another fanfic. Reviews are nice. Flames aren't, but really, feedback is feedback. Though I would like some comments on the basic plot line, as I think it's pretty damn original (as is my star wars one).

**Summary**: Harry's parents are alive, so this story is completely AU. He's grown up with them. This story is set in his 7th year, so basically all of his previously life is left unknown. He goes to Hogwarts, lives with his parents, and is still the Boy-Who-Lived. He loves his parents, but when he finds out about the prophecy (the same one as J.K. Rowling's), he runs away. Basically, that's all I'm saying. no slash. Some elements of the books are present.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, but Draco is my sex slave.

Chapter 1 

Harry woke up panting, sweat dripping down his face. His clothes were soaked through. Why, oh, why, did he have to have the same dream _every_ night? It was Voldemort. When wasn't it dear Snakeface? He knew he should tell his parents about his dreams. It wasn't exactly a good thing to be sent dreams from Voldemort every night. But Harry didn't want to worry them. After all that had happened… well, his parents were keeping him on a tight leash. Besides, it was just a dream. And what harm were dreams, really? He would tell his parents if he thought that anything would actually happen. And that's what really aggravated him: nothing actually _happened_ in the dream. He went over it again in his head:

_He walked through the hall. It was dark, probably in the middle of the night. He was in some kind of building. An office, maybe. He had never seen it before. But he felt like he had. He felt his feet moving in some kind of predetermined path. Soon, he found himself at two large, black, doors. He reached out to touch the handle, and –_

he woke up.

He almost felt sick not knowing what was in there. He needed to know. If it was important to Voldemort for him to know, then he should probably know, right? And if it was dangerous, Dumbledore and his bloody Order would know it about it already. Yes, that rationalized everything.

You see, Harry really hated his life. He had a good life. Okay, a great life. He had two parents who loved him, two godfathers, and two annoying sisters. But only he was the boy-who-lived. Only he was famous. He hated his fame. He hated that he couldn't have one ounce of anonymity. And what he hated above all that was that his family didn't understand that. Especially his Dad. No, James didn't think that Harry's life was all peaches 'n cream, but he was always telling Harry how lucky he was that he was so well-known, and that he could have anything he wanted.

Yes, that part was true. He could have everything he wanted. He could have girls; he _had_ had girls. He could have money, and well, let's just say his great-great-great-grandchild might have to take on a part-time job. So why wasn't he happy? Well, he really wasn't sure if anyone knew him. Not even his parents. Oh, they loved him. Really, they did. They were great parents. But did they know him, Harry, or just the boy-who-lived? He couldn't stand not knowing.

His musings were cut off as his sister opened the door to his room. "You okay?" she asked blearily. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry to wake you… again." "Should I get mum?" "No. Please, just leave me alone." "Fine!"

Harry sighed as he went back to his musings. Maybe his life wasn't so bad after all. Maybe if he pretended to be the boy everyone thought he was, a savior, a hero, then maybe he would become that boy. Maybe if he pretended to be happy, then he would be happy.

Tomorrow, he would be leaving for his seventh year of Hogwarts. Of course, he was the bloody Head Boy. Who better to be the Head Boy than the Boy-Who-Lived. It was just another title. And when his parents had found out, they were _thrilled_. Really, his parents didn't know him at all.

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err..yeah. short first chapter. reviews are nice. just tell me if you like the concept or not. I assure you, the other chapters won't just be Harry rambling on and on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Harry Potter, but I am sleeping with him.

Summary on first page

**Where we left off:**

_Harry sighed as he went back to his musings. Maybe his life wasn't so bad after all. Maybe if he pretended to be the boy everyone thought he was, a savior, a hero, then maybe he would become that boy. Maybe if he pretended to be happy, then he would be happy. _

_Tomorrow, he would be leaving for his seventh year of Hogwarts. Of course, he was the bloody Head Boy. Who better to be the Head Boy than the Boy-Who-Lived. It was just another title. And when his parents had found out, they were thrilled. Really, his parents didn't know him at all._

Ch.02

He was awoken by a loud thumping coming from outside his room. Mara. Damn her and her excitement. She was going to start her first year today. Such innocent ignorance. But then again, Mara would never have a reason to be unhappy. Yes, she was in danger because of Voldemort, but no more than the rest of her friends. She wasn't _his_ target. She would never be. No, Mara would always live in a world of peaceful, unadulterated ignorance.

Harry rubbed his eyes, and looked around his room. Piles of disheveled schoolbooks lined the walls, having fallen from the bookshelf long ago. He looked pitifully around his room; today was his last day of childhood. Childhood. He laughed bitterly. He hadn't been a child since he was eleven, and he was swallowed up by his fame and glory at Hogwarts. He had of course known that he was the Boy-Who-Lived long before, his father thinking that Harry would be elated by this, but he had really only faced his family and close friends. Not throngs of people.

He looked at the picture on his nightstand. It was of him and his long-time girlfriend, Cho Chang. He was tickling her playfully as she attempted to swat him away. Cho wouldn't be at Hogwarts this year. Surprisingly, Harry didn't miss her. Though, their relationship had been more physical than anything. The one thing about being famous that Harry liked was his ability to get what he wanted, specifically women. He discovered in his fifth year how easy it was to get a girl to shag him, and had become famous for his sexual 'conquests' at Hogwarts. Cho was unobtainable by most in her own year, and for a sixth year to successfully date her was preposterous. She was also famous for her sexual endevours.

He and Cho had started off with a pretty loose relationship. Harry's parents hadn't approved, but there was nothing they could do about it. Harry and Cho continued to, well, sleep around. But suddenly, Cho wanted to be exclusive. He agreed, albeit relunctantly. But now, now he was free. He could be with any girl he wanted, any time he wanted. And he knew it.

He threw on a tight black t-shirt and khakis. He looked around for his trunk, and spotted it under a rather large pile of socks. He opened it, and smiled upon finding a pack of cigarettes lying inside. Yes, Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, smoked cigarettes. Not that anyone knew of course. Harry felt it was part of his silent rebellion against his parents, against Dumbledore, against the Ministry, against the whole bloody Wizarding World. One day, every little secret he had kept would come out, and he would know longer be their savior. That was exactly what he wanted. He wouldn't be Dumbledore's pawn anymore.

Sighing, he threw piles of clothes and robes into his trunk, along with some already beaten-up textbooks. He spotted his Head Boy badge, scowled, and threw it in right along with everything. He found the mirror that his Godfather, Sirius, had given him. When he was younger, he would talk to Sirius for hours threw it. It had been years since he had used it. He threw it at the door. He cursed when he heard the racket it made.

More pounding outside his room. "Harry" a female voice called. "Are you alright?". "I'm fine," he replied gruffly. "I'll be down in a minute."

Five minutes later he found himself in the large kitchen. Musing, he remembered how he used to cook his family breakfast on the mornings he would return to Hogwarts. But that was also years ago. His thoughts were cut short as his father and youngest sister came running down the stairs, chatting happily about Quidditch. James ruffled his hair lovingly, resulting in a scowl from Harry. "Hareeee," was the only warning he had as his youngest sister, Melissa, launched herself at Harry's feet. It took all of his will not to kick her off, but after all, she was just a kid.

"Excited son?" "Sure. I just can't wait to be attacked by Snakeface's goons again," he replied sarcastically. "Harry," he chastised, "Don't be like that. Today is the first day of your last year at Hogwarts. I remember on my first day I was so excited – "

"Well, dad, I'm not you. I'm not like anybody. I'm just excited that after this I'm free."  
James looked speechless. "You know what Dad? I'm not hungry. Besides, I promised Cho I'd see her before I left. I'll see you at the platform." And with that he apparated away.

James was stunned. Sure, he hadn't really talked to Harry in a while, but he couldn't think of anything that would cause the bad blood between them. He was going to have to talk to Harry, and after Harry left for Hogwarts, they would have _plenty_ of time to talk. Harry was in for a big surprise.

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**Author's Note**: So, Harry's not just a prick, okay? I know it seems like it… and hopefully, if I keep going, he will be seen as… well, a _teenager_. A teenager that really hates being the Boy-Who-Lived. Reviews are nice. Seriously. Every time you don't review my story (good or bad), a puppy dies.


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